


Raindrops

by msobsessivecompulsive



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msobsessivecompulsive/pseuds/msobsessivecompulsive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was based on a tumblr prompt: Carson/Hughes "The Notebook" style.  Shameless fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raindrops

"Mr. Carson?" Daisy stuck her head into his pantry tentatively.

He’d been staring out the window, his hands behind his back. He turned towards, masked partly in shadow as the rain dripped against the window. Daisy thought he looked older. Lost almost.

Sad.

"Aren’t you going to come and say good-bye?" She whispered, her voice low and frightened. He opened his mouth to retort angrily when he realized she was undoubtedly the one that drew the short end of the stick. He glared at her.

They all hated him, he knew. Her most of all.

_Her most of all._

He turned from Daisy and looked back out the window, ignoring her request, saying nothing. She hesitated a moment longer.

"She is on your side," Daisy snapped, a tone of accusation in her voice.  _How dare you?_ It seemed to reply.  _How dare you make this more difficult for her?_  She disappeared a moment later. A soft peel of thunder rumbled in the distance. It wasn’t loud enough.

The whole house should be SHAKING with it.

"Mr. Carson?"  _Her voice._

He didn’t turn from the window. He watched one of the raindrops as it trickled down the frame and stopped in the middle of the pane.

"I’m off," she said simply. There was a note of finality to her voice. But it was begging him too.  _For what?_  ”Are you…will you walk me to the door?”

He forced himself to turn from the window then. She was wearing her hat and had a large black umbrella in her hand. ”His Lordship was distraught at me walking over in the rain. I insisted.”

Carson ignored her and walked across the room, pausing at the door to wait for her to leave the entrance so that he could shut it behind him. ”They gave me a formal good bye upstairs. I didn’t want them to make a big fuss, though they wanted to. I was quite touched.”

Carson walked slowly beside her down the hallway, stopping at the back door of the house. She looked up at him for a second before exhaling in one long breath. ”I know you’re upset with me for leaving you alone. But I’ll only be a mile down the road. You can come and visit.” She looked hopeful and he was reminded briefly of a young woman with big green eyes, rosy cheeks, and a gay laugh that made his stomach do somersaults.

He looked down at her briefly before turning his head away. To her, it looked like dismissal. To him, it was saving face. She saw the air of finality in the turn of his head. What she missed were the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

_Selfish. So selfish._

"I’ll come by for a visit in a day or two," she whispered, a husky tone to her voice. He’d wounded her. The part of him that wanted to had won. Another part of him was breaking.

He heard the sound of her opening her umbrella. He glanced back to see her take a step out onto the ledge of the steps. She turned around and looked at him, her face masked partly in shadow as the rain dripped against the umbrella.

"Good bye, Mr. Carson," she spoke. Another soft peal of thunder echoed in the distance. She turned around and started walking down the gravel pit, the sound of her shoes fading as the rain drowned out their sound.

_The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end that’s all there is._

"She will be missed." Mrs. Patmore had appeared unbidden at Carson’s elbow.

He turned to look at her, entirely unable to mask his feelings any longer. She glanced up at him knowingly, before slipping her hand in his briefly and squeezing it. She removed her hand just as quickly and looked out the door. He folded his hands behind his back and watched her retreating figure as Mrs. Patmore turned to go.

"We must all have our hearts broken once or twice before we’re done." She said it with such feeling that it caused Carson to look over at her, surprised. Her eyes were misted over. She smiled at him briefly, before patting his arm and walking back towards the kitchen.

Frowning…Carson turned back around to look at Elsie’s retreating figure. A flash of lightning skimmed the sky and Carson suddenly found himself shouting her name. Shouting it like she was the last woman in the world. She was.

"Elsie! Elsie!!" Faint at first, and then getting louder. It sounded as beautiful to her ears as it had in her dreams. She paused and turned to see Charles Carson jogging towards her. By the time he reached her, he was soaked to the skin.

"Mr. Carson!" She gasped. "What on earth…" She looked him over, parts exasperated, parts confused, and concern.  _Always concerned_. ”You’ll catch your death of cold!”

He stopped and stared at her, his actions catching up with him. He stood there, his shoulders drooped, staring at her as raindrops dripped down his hair and onto his cheeks.

Frowning, Mrs. Hughes stepped forward. ”Did you have something…”

"I need you," he blurted out. Startled slightly, Mrs. Hughes stepped back and then chuckled. "Mr. Carson, it can wait until morning, I’m sure."

"It can’t."

"Well what is it, then? Has one of the footmen overstepped his boundaries again? Surely, Anna could assist you, Mr. Carson. I…" She trailed off as she noticed how agitated he had become. He was fiddling nervously with his hands, trying to look her in the eye and failing miserably. He finally stopped and chose to just stare at his hands. She reached forward to touch his hand and he flinched instinctively. She withdrew her hand quickly.

"Mr. Carson perhaps you should head back to the house that…"

"No, no. I don’t need help with my mending or the footmen, I need…I need…" he was growing more upset, still clearly at a loss for words.

"I don’t understand you," she whispered.

A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance. Louder. Closer this time. He flinched again at the sound of it. Elsie thought he suddenly looked like a scared little boy.

"Look, Mr. Carson the point is that…." she tried.

"There’s no POINT without you!" He exploded. "I…I can’t do it without you! I can’t polish the silver if you’re not making the beds in the next room and I can’t pour the wine if you’re not balancing the accounts, and I can’t sleep if I can’t hear your keys in the hallway, and I can’t stand at the head of table next to an empty chair…

He hardly knew what he was saying anymore. He just wanted her to understand. To try to. Tears were slowly spilling out of her eyes and running down her cheeks as she watched him.

"And I can’t….Mrs. Hughes, I can’t…" he was struggling now. To maintain his calm. His dignity. His pent up feelings that were now pushing towards the surface so quickly he couldn’t seem to keep up with them. Could years of second glances, and soft touches, and tender words really do that?

She dropped her umbrella and stepped forward taking her hands and wrapping them around his. He took his other and rested it over hers.

"Alice is dead," he whispered. Elsie looked up at him then, her eyes searching his, her wet hair plastered to her face. "She stole your heart away," she breathed out.

"She drifted out…you drifted in," he returned. "Except you haven’t drifted have you, Mrs. Hughes?" It was like he was coming to terms with something. Whatever it was she wanted to help him. She needed to help him because he was so much a part of her. "No," she gripped tighter to his hands.

"Then why are you leaving me, too?" He whispered.

She leaned forwards and rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes at the feel of his skin on hers. It felt right. Like they’d done this their whole lives. Like they were meant to be this way all along. “I would never leave you” she breathed out resting her cheek against his nose. He didn’t pull away or object.

He leaned further into her touch, overwhelmed by the scent of her, the feel of her, that she was his. He suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of a gravel path in the pouring rain with the ex housekeeper of Downton Abbey. And he no longer cared.

He pulled back then. He was standing upright again, chest back, head held high. Proud. Proud of his love for this woman, his partner. His equal. ”I love you, Elsie Hughes. And it costs me nothing to say it.”

"The woman you love loves you" she whispered back, her voice so full of love that it sounded ready to burst. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She grinned then and let out a small laugh. "The two of us must look quite a pair."

"As we’ve always been," he said sternly, though there was a twinkle in his eye that made Elsie’s cheeks glow.

"Shall we walk back together?" He offered her his arm and she took it gladly.

_Do you ever wish you’d..gone another way? Worked in a shop? Or factory? Had a wife and children?_

_Do you?_

_I don’t know. Maybe._

**_Sometimes._ **


End file.
